Wheel of Fortune
by Vixen of Light
Summary: Yolei-centric, one sided Hiyako (YURI, people!), Kekari. Yolei's life is ruled by the Wheel of Fortune. . .


A/N: It's introspective, it's Yuri, it's Yolei, it's Kekari and Hiyako, it's quite possibly OOC, although I tried not to be, it's. . .well, that's it. I know I like Hiyako, and I know I don't like Kekari all that much, but I wanted to get Kari with someone ironic to Yolei for. . .well, story purposes. Consider it a challenge to myself. ^^ Review if you like, I appreciate critique (and compliments. . . .*snigger*). And by the way, don't bother flaming over couples, I really don't care if you support a coupling I don't. It's a free world. Go and do something useful with your time.  
  
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Damp now from being clutched in my hand, it was nothing more than a small rectangle of card, really. Some would say it was worthless, some would say it could tell my future. Whatever, true or not, this one card seemed to be my life.  
  
I don't know what possessed me to buy the tarot cards in the first place. Curiosity, maybe. Or a need for some sort of comfort. I can remember wandering around the mall in a sort of hazy stupor, alone. . .and they were just there, in a window of a shop I'd never really looked at. The display was all silk scarves and translucent-coloured candles and eastern incense, all the things that are supposed to be spiritual, able to see into your soul, and there was a small box of cards. The card on the front was the High Priestess. She looked like Kari, as it happened. Gentle, regal, magical, casting her spell on the world and me. A soft, otherworldly smile curved her lips, even in painting, and her graceful arms were raised. She wore white robes. Her eyes, and her flowing hair, were brown. Maybe that was why I bought them.  
  
Now, sitting on my bed, it was the Wheel of Fortune card I held. Life's ups and downs. If Kari was the High Priestess, I was this Wheel, the figures in the archaic art style rising and falling on either side of the wheel. I had risen, and now I fell, unnoticed, as always.  
  
What was the ascendancy, you ask? Everything, every time in the Digital World, where she and I grew closer. We were - are, I guess - best friends. Our Digimon merged together. We held hands that day, and I was a child, I saw only a happy friendship then, closeness. It had to be, to make the union work we had to match desires and motives, and we did. We seemed so different, but we proved that wrong.  
  
It was years before I realised what was happening. All these crushes, one after another, Ken, mostly, and then Willis, Izzy, Joe, even, in an odd way, Davis. Oh yes, that was a turning of the Wheel of Fortune in a way, too. . .as in all honesty, not one of them saw me as more than a sister or a friend. And everyone loved Kari, she was Light and beauty, grace, talent, the whole lot. Her face was flawless, and I watched it often. I should know, it's tattooed on the inside of my eyelids when I close my eyes, all the time. She knew joy and grief, she knew how to love the world and people because of it. She knew how to care, she knew how to hold herself with grace and pride and serenity, more than I could manage. She shone, who couldn't love that?  
  
As it turned out, no-one, myself included. All that growing closer had to lead to something, right? And all the times I studied her face and body and thought I was just admiring a friend, or maybe being jealous that she had everything I wanted, and then it hit me.  
  
I can remember the time I realised I was in love with her. It was a silly little thing - isn't it always? At school, I'd cut a finger: just a tiny nick, but it was bleeding so much. Kari was there, and she took my hand in hers, washed the cut off and wrapped a tissue bandage around it. She looked up into my face, and her eyes. . .oh, those eyes. It was a cliché, I know, with the sunlight mottling her face through the trees, just a slight breeze in her hair, lifting it from around that petite oval face, marble skin flushed warm, mute reds, but it was like time stopped.  
  
I'm no poet, I can't describe it was well as maybe Ken or Kari herself could, were they remembering it, but it want to say, it was like having an angel come down to save me, or like my heart was suddenly complete. Such a silly little thing, but I found myself staring into those jewelled eyes, filled with concern and care, and my hand still resting in her warm, soft palm, and I would have been more than happy to have never left that spot again, never left her. She smiled at me, said some cheering words that I forget right now, and walked happily off, content she had helped me. And I just sat there and watched her go, and wanted to call her back.  
  
But I am the Wheel of Fortune, so I half thought it may just be. . .another crush. So I was just happy to be in her presence when I could, let the two of us grow closer. I told her things I would never tell another living soul, how I felt about. . .anything and everything. Except the one thing that mattered. We did everything together, grew up together, helped each other to find our places in the world. One day I told her how I wished I was beautiful, like her, and she smiled as only she could, in that way that lifted your heart, and said, "But you are beautiful, 'Lei! I wish I was taller, like you, and your hair is lovely! But that's immaterial. . .you, yourself, are beautiful." And I honestly let myself believe, in that moment, that maybe I had a. . .well, a chance. I loved her then more than ever, for her kindness, her caring soul, the light in her eyes, the way she could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. How she made me feel happy just be being near her.  
  
Time passed on and on, and every day was honey and wine and thrills to my heart. She would hug me, as friends do, and I would take every chance to hold her for just a moment more, tighten my arms around her, rest my cheek against her hair. With her, her alone, I could laugh, be myself, and nothing else mattered. She taught me how to love, I think, how to be tender to the world like she was. I won't forget those days, like some people never forget their longest summers, their college days, their sweetest love. That last one will always be me.  
  
But, as I was the Wheel of Fortune, life never stayed good. A third card came into picture. My fingers rifle through the pack, and I find another card and lie it down on my bedsheets, between the Wheel of Fortune and the High Priestess. This card is called The Hanged Man. It means sacrifice, suffering, overcoming, inner strength. The hair of the figure on the card was not blue, but it should have been, in the context of my scene. He tore apart any tentative hope of what could have been, one day.  
  
Irony bites you when you least expect it. Kari called me one afternoon. Her voice was oddly soft, mysterious, and she asked me to come over to her flat. When I asked why, she merely said, "I. . .just have something to tell you," My heart literally skipped a beat. I felt it convulse between my ribs, making me gasp. Something close to fear or ecstasy welled in my throat, and all I could think, as far as I could beneath the frenzy of pure emotion, was, 'She wants to speak to me. She wants to tell me something. She realised. . .she feels the same. . .' I flew over to her house on wings of pure hope, pure joy. Around Kari, everything was pure. I was at her door in moments, and she swung it open when I knocked.  
  
She looked so pretty. Her face was alight, even as mine was, and I had never been so certain of anything right then, of the dream that we could be together. She waved me in, and I suddenly realised, we were not alone in the apartment. Ken has standing there, hands in pockets, nervous expression, rocking back and forth on his heels. I had been obsessed with this boy once, but now, it was merely friendship. He had seen, been, and suffered things outside my sphere of understanding. Fangirlism was over. Kari was love, love with friendship, closeness, understanding, empathy, everything. She spoke to my soul. So, what was Ken doing in the completion of our dream?  
  
Kari came through and sat on the very edge of the sofa. I thought she would motion me to sit by her, but she didn't. Instead, she looked up at me, then down at the ground. "This. . .is. . ." she laughed uncertainly, without humour. "This is awkward, but I. . .really don't know why. . ." her sentence trailed off, and silence fell. That, too, was awkward, and confusing.  
  
"You can tell me. . .anything," I said, making the words open-ended, to give her an opportunity to jump in. Her eyes roved around the floor.  
  
I deserved the Crest of Courage for what I did next. If nothing else, at least I had that triumph - I said how I felt. Or I tried, at least. "Kari, I. . .think I know. And, believe me, love shouldn't be awkward. . .I have the Digi-Egg of Love, remember? Say it. . ."  
  
She took me by surprise then. She always could. Every time I saw her, new layers were uncovered. She sat bolt upright and a dazzling smile lit up her face again. "You're right, 'Lei. That's why I asked you here, you'll understand. I wanted you to be the first to know!"  
  
And Ken walked over and took her hand. I couldn't look at their faces, all I could do was stare at the point where their hands met. It dawned on me so slowly, too - my heart simply couldn't comprehend what was happening. That's not right, what are they doing?  
  
Ken turned to Kari with such wonder in his eyes, it almost rivalled mine. Not quite, though - no-one could do that. "We. . Ken has, well, he. . .asked me out, and I guess," she shrugged, gave a little, laugh, turned to look at Ken. "I'm his girlfriend. . .I, we, think it'll work. I. . .love him," She turned back to me, expectant.  
  
For the second time in my life, time stood still, caused by Kari, my heaven, my hell, my world. . no, not mine. Ken's. I stood there for what seemed like hours, sand in my nostrils, veils torn from my eyes, staring into the blinding Light before me. The couple watched me, waiting for a response. No coherent thoughts could be strung together in my mind right then - all I had was the irony of how my past obsession and my soulmate were sitting there telling me they loved each other, and the faint, sticky taste of her perfume drying out my mouth, and my aching eyes as sore as if I was staring into the sun.  
  
"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!" On auto-pilot, my voice spewed the words at them, and I prodded my glasses up my nose to give me just a moment to perfect the mask I would wear for them. When I took my hand down, my face was a beaming, laughing expression. They both laughed with me, relieved, delighted. And, although I wanted to run, I stopped with them for another hour and listened to their story, watched them grasping hands, bodies pressed together, the comfort and intimacy between them heartbreakingly obvious. They looked like a renaissance painting, pure and illuminated, light and darkness, complimentary set, and then there was me, crouched at their side like a servant or a dog, someone in the background. The only thing that kept me from collapsing there and then was love for them both, and pride for myself - keeping the mask on, firmly. I would need to become a good actor from now on, for I could never let that mask slip for as long as I live, as long as they were together.  
  
When I left, I didn't feel anything for a while. Emptiness, like feeling had been burned out of me. Weaker than feathers in a hurricane. I couldn't cry, I couldn't shout, I just wanted to lie down and let the whole world pass me by, absorb me, simply cease to exist. I sat down on the grass verge, no energy to walk any further. Crying seemed futile - it wouldn't change a thing. I didn't even care. How I made it home without being run over was a miracle. When I did reach home, it got me then. My future, everything I had planned to do with Kari beside me, shattered.  
  
As I sit here, I can only describe it flippantly, carelessly, as anything else would tear me apart all over again. It sounds very minor when I try to describe it, but if it does, I have failed in trying to explain myself. As I said, I am no poet. She was, as I also said, part of my soul, and I lost her. No complication, no fancy words. I loved her, more than loved her, and she was not mine to love.  
  
So I did cry, eventually, that night, and then I never cried again. I couldn't, I saw them and all my other friends every day, and I was happy hyper Yolei, and no-one ever knew how knives cut deeper into my heart every time I saw them, how I looked away when they kissed, what I felt.  
  
We grew apart, too, she and I, all that time we had spent experiencing everything that mattered, was taken away in a heartbeat by Ken. I don't think she noticed, or understood why, although she tried for us to still be friends. That's her - she always cares. We shopped and slept at each others' houses and talked, but I never told her anything any more. There wasn't anything to tell.  
  
Time passed, as it does, and although it still hurt, at least I got used to it. The pain grew familiar and I learned to live with it. I lost more than friendship and what I believe was my (another cliché) true love - I lost hope. It will take me a long time to truly regain that, if ever. Now the only one I can talk to is Hawkmon, when we are together. . .he helps heal the emptiness, he motivates me again. I have things I enjoy, I have friends to keep me company, even if they can't see beneath the mask. I don't feel like I have no world any more. But love? I am incapable of stopping loving her.  
  
Yet I have is this card to remind me of her. I never read them, I don't want to know the future. I don't think the Wheel of Fortune will turn any more. I just like to look at them now and again. Did I say I never cried again? I lied, for I can feel a tear on my cheek right now. 


End file.
